


a cup of sugar, a pinch of magic

by perfectlyrose



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Intrigue, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyrose/pseuds/perfectlyrose
Summary: It's just another night spent baking instead of sleeping for John Smith, owner of The Blue Box Bakery, when a mysterious blonde woman knocks on the bakery door hours before opening time. He never expected that letting her in would draw him into a world of magic and shadow organizations or be the start of a life-changing love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I swore I wouldn't start a new WIP until I finished one but... well... here I am. 
> 
> Buckle in because I think this is going to be a long one.

John pushed the heels of his hands into the dough, putting all his strength behind it as he worked to get it to the right consistency. Kneading bread dough was therapeutic in the way he could focus on doing just this one single thing, putting mind and body both towards a single goal and shutting out the rest of the world for a bit.

He was starting to get a reputation for his breads in the neighborhood, was starting to get people coming into the shop specifically looking for certain ones. No one had to know that the days he had the most variety were products of nights spent avoiding the nightmares that lived in his head.

Today there would be a lot of bread. Probably would be quite a few of the fussy little miniature cakes that sold well when he could find the time to make them. Detail work would be a good follow up to making bread.

He’d been working for a couple hours and his kitchen was covered in various breads and cakes and sweets in varying stages of baking, cooling, and being decorated when a sharp knocking cut through the quiet. John’s head whipped up, brows drawing together as he glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning on a Wednesday, not there weren’t usually many people wandering about looking for a bakery at this time.

John grabbed a towel to wipe his hands with and headed out into the bakery proper to see what the fuss was about. He had the lights in the shop low but it was just enough to make the glass cases shine and still leave the corners shadowed.

He turned his gaze to the front windows. A blonde woman was at the door, arms wrapped round her middle as she glanced up and down the dark, empty street. John frowned as he took in the fact that she was only wearing a vest top and jeans even though it was the middle of winter and the middle of the night on top of that.

His decision to let her in was made the second he laid eyes on her. At the very least, he could offer her a spot to sit in the warmth of the bakery for a bit. Maybe some food as well.

He strode over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open and letting in a blast of cold air.

The woman hesitated as she looked up at John, fear apparent in her eyes.

John didn’t think he looked all that intimidating with an apron on and flour all over him but he was bigger than her. Years of working doughs and hauling sacks of flour and sugar and trays of food had maintained and built muscle that he belatedly realized was on display with the sleeves of his jumper pushed up. He offered her a disarming smile, trying to convey that he was not a threat.

He stepped back, pulling the door open wider and gesturing into the shop with one hand. “Come on, it’s a lot warmer in here and I’ve got a few croissants that should be about warm that I can share.”

She took a small step forward then stopped. “I don’t have any money.” Her voice was hoarse like she hadn’t spoken in a while or had spoken too much and too loud recently.

He shrugged. “Don’t need money to help someone out. Please come in.”

She pressed her lips together and then nodded stepping inside Blue Box Bakery.

John shut the door behind her and locked it back. She jumped at the sound of the lock.

“You can unlock and leave at anytime you want,” he reassured her. “It’s a deadbolt operated from the inside, no need for a key if you’re going out.”

“Thank you,” she said, quiet voice perfectly audible in the almost silence of the bakery. “You didn’t have to let me in.”

He snorted. “Wasn’t going to leave you out in the cold. Come on back to the kitchen, I think I promised you croissants.”

He led the way back behind the counter and then into the kitchen, pretending not to notice the way she stole a few glances back out the windows or the way some of her tension dissipated the moment the kitchen door swung shut.

“Oh my god, it smells amazing in here,” she said, inhaling deeply. “Is that cinnamon I smell?”

“Good nose. There’s cinnamon swirl bread in the oven.”

He opened one of the ovens and used the towel he’d slung over his shoulder to pull out a tray with three croissants on it. They were leftover from yesterday and he’d been warming them back up to eat but he thought she needed them more.

He slid the tray onto a clear spot on the counter before turning to grab a plate from a cabinet. John plucked the croissants off the baking tray and dropped them onto the plate, muttering as he burned his fingertips on the hot pastry. He shook his hand out as he set the plate down near the blonde, giving her a sheepish grin.

“You’d think after a year or so of baking professionally I’d have built up more heat tolerance,” he quipped.

The smile that broke over her face was wonderful to behold. “Might should invest in some tongs so you keep the feeling in your fingers.”

“Got some, just never remember to use the damn things,” he said easily, turning back to check on the breads and pull a sponge out of the oven that was probably already overbaked.

“I’m John Smith by the way.” He didn’t look behind him to see if her silence was due to a return of her hesitance or because she was in the middle of a bite. “I own this place.”

“Are most bakers already up and baking at three in the morning?” the blonde asked, ignoring the opportunity to share her own name.

John turned to face her, eyes flicking down to the crumbs on her plate, all that was left of the croissants. “Nah, I’m just an insomniac who lives above his shop so when I can’t sleep, I come get started on the day’s baking. No one’s complained about the extra pastries yet.”

“I certainly wouldn’t,” she said, another smile blooming. “Those were delicious.”

“You should try a fresh one when I get them going.”

“Might just do that.”

“I could get you a cuppa, if you’d like,” he offered.

“If you show me where the kettle and tea are, I can make us both one. Least I can do when you let me in from the cold and fed me the best croissants I’ve ever had.”

John showed her where the kettle had a tiny corner of counter space with tea and mugs in the cabinet above it and then left her to it. He pulled the cinnamon swirl bread and set it on a cooling rack before going to check on the doughs that were still rising. None of them looked ready yet so he turned his attention back to the blonde who was pouring boiling water into the mugs.

“You any good at baking?” he asked.

She snorted. “Pretty much anything I touch in a kitchen ends up burnt so…”

He raised his eyebrows. “Gonna have to ask you to stay away from the bread dough then.”

The blonde laughed and his heart tripped over itself. “Not a problem.”

John grabbed milk out of the fridge as she brought mugs over to a clear spot on the counter. He poured a splash in his before offering it to her. She added a dash of milk and then took the spoon he was using for sugar to add a spoonful and a half to her cup.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she took her first sip. “Mmm, s’been awhile since I had a proper cuppa.”

John mulled over his words for a moment before opening his mouth. “Look, I’m not going to ask why you were out on the street in the middle of the winter in a vest top and no jacket. Not any of my business. But like I told you earlier, I live above the shop. So if you need a place to sleep and take a shower, make a few more cuppas, you’re welcome to use my flat.”

She froze, mug halfway to her lips. “I don’t want to put you out.”

He shrugged. “I’m going to be down here baking and then running the shop. I can give you the key and then you can lock the door behind you and have full run of the place for the day and I won’t bother you. Might even have some frozen dinners you can microwave without burning the place down.”

She set her mug down with a quiet thunk, keeping her hands wrapped around it. “Why are you being so nice? You don’t even know me.”

“Because it seems like you need help. Know what it’s like to be looking for a hand to help you get on your feet, me. Nice to be able to try and do the helping this time.”

“The world doesn’t work this way,” she argued. “It’s not this kind.”

“Not saying that it is. I’m just saying you knocked on the right bakery door on the right night and sometimes, luck works that way.”

She was opening her mouth to say something else when a banging sound cut through the quiet. The blonde jumped, almost spilling her tea as her face drained of color. Her eyes - more gold than brown now - were wild with fear when they met his. “They found me. Oh god, I didn’t think they’d find me this fast.”

“Calm down. I’m not letting anyone else into this shop, you got that?” John dug in his pocket and pulled out a key, pressed it into her hand. “Go through the door in the back of the kitchen and straight up the stairs. My flat is the door on the left. I’ll let you know when we’re clear down here.”

She nodded and took off, mug of tea still in one hand, the key in the other.

John took a deep breath, counted to ten and then walked back out into the shop for his second late night visitor.

There were two men at the door. They were dressed in black and had military-straight posture. John felt his own spine straighten instinctively, old habits reasserting themselves.

The men stood with a tilt to their stance that, to John’s trained eye, said they were carrying weapons of some sort under their jackets on their left hip. One of the men was sweeping the street with his eyes, searching for any signs of movement while the other locked his gaze on John.

He took his time getting to the door. He flipped the lock and opened the door just enough to accommodate his shoulders, making it very clear that they were not welcome to enter. “We’re not open,” John said shortly.

“Have you seen a woman around here tonight? About five foot five, blonde?” The man in front and the shorter of the two asked.

“No. I’ve been in the kitchen for the last couple hours and you’re the only people I’ve seen.”

“What are you doing up at this hour, anyways?” The other man asked, turning narrowed eyes on John.

“Insomniac, me. Good quality for a baker.”

“Mind if we have a look around?”

John crossed his arms over his chest. “I do actually. Pretty sure you can see the whole shop from where you’re standing and I don’t let people back into my kitchen, especially not when I have things baking.”

“You’re certain no one else has been around here tonight?”

“Nobody in the shop but me. If someone was lingering about outside I wouldn’t know about it. Barely heard your knocking over the ruckus I was making back there.”

The men were still suspicious, he could see it in their eyes, but he knew they didn’t have any proof that he was lying. “If you see a blonde woman wandering around tonight, don’t let her in. She’s dangerous.”

John raised his eyebrows. The blonde had seemed more scared than anything but he knew well enough that scared could make you feral, make you dangerous. “Got a number I can call if I catch sight of this dangerous fugitive?”

The man in the back reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. John took it and put it into his apron pocket without reading it. He kept his gaze locked on the two men memorizing their faces in case they decided to come back. The taller one had a permanent pinched expression and a narrow face with slicked back dark hair. The shorter one had a muscled build that John didn’t particularly want to test himself against and a blonde buzzcut.

“Bread’s going to burn if I don’t get back to it. Night gentlemen,” he said, moving back so he could shut the door.

The blonde man stopped him, slamming his palm against the glass. “I think you need to rethink letting us see the kitchen.”

“I think you need to get your hand off my glass or I’m going to make you clean it yourself,” John shot back. “I have no reason to let you on my property.”

“I think avoiding trouble should be incentive enough,” he said with a sneer, not moving his hand.

“Seems to me that letting you in would be inviting the trouble in.”

“If you’ve got nothing to hide, let us look around,” the taller man said.

John’s mouth quirked up into a smile that had no warmth to it, only warning. “No, thanks. Goodnight.”

He reached out and knocked the blonde’s hand down with a quick motion and closed the door, locking it up once more. John waved at the men still standing outside of his bakery and then headed back into the kitchen.

John pulled his bread out of the oven and set it to cool and then finished his already cold tea sitting on the counter. When about ten minutes had passed, he poked his head back out to see if the men were still out front. Deciding it was all clear, he ducked back into the kitchen, made sure everything was out of the ovens, then walked out the back door.

John checked the back alley to make sure they weren’t lurking back there and then mounted the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He knocked on the door to his flat softly. “It’s me,” he called out. “They’re gone, no sign of them still hanging about.”

He heard her moving on the other side of the door and stepped back so that she could see through the peephole that he was alone.

The deadbolt moved with a soft _snick_ and the door swung open, revealing the blonde mystery woman. Her face was still pale, eyes still wide.

John stepped inside and closed and locked the door behind him, flipping on the lights as well.

“You got rid of them?” she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

“Yup. Told them I hadn’t seen anyone of your description, refused to let them into my shop, generally didn’t make any new friends in the process.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle like she needed the extra support to stay upright. “Were they only looking for me?”

He nodded. “Did you have someone with you earlier?”

She looked away. “Yeah, couple people. We split up so it wouldn’t be as easy to track us but I guess they didn’t find a bakery to hide in.”

“Maybe they found somewhere else to lay low.”

“If Torchwood didn’t ask about them, they’ve already found ‘em.”

“Torchwood?”

She looked back up, brow furrowed in confusion. “That’s who came around looking for me, yeah?”

John dug in the pocket of his apron and pulled out the card he’d asked for. One side had a honeycomb T, the other side read “Torchwood: Scientific research for the betterment of Britain” along with a phone number.

“That’s cryptic,” he muttered. He looked back at the blonde. “You were right. Torchwood.”

“They gave you a card?” she asked.

John shrugged. “I asked for a way to contact them so that I knew who they were.”

“Clever.”

“Not just a pretty face,” he joked, mouth quirking into a half-smile. “Why don’t we move in to the couch? Could do with getting off my feet for a bit.”

He eased past her and walked towards his sofa. It was battered and a rather offensive shade of yellow but it was the comfiest thing he’d ever sat on and he was attached to it. John plopped down with a sigh and propped his feet up on the coffee table after tossing his apron on it.

“They don’t tell you when you decide to open a bakery that it’s hell on your feet,” he said.

The blonde carefully lowered herself down on the other end of the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning back against the arm. “I would think it would be obvious. Gotta stand in the kitchen and then in the shop. Can’t sit when you’re in customer service.”

“Sounds like you know the drill.”

“Might’ve worked in a shop once upon a time,” she admitted. “Splurged on those gel inserts for my shoes and never regretted a single penny.”

“I’ll have to look into that.”

“You should.”

John let the silence stretch until some of the tension drained from the blonde’s shoulders.

“You know they tried to tell me that you’re dangerous,” he said.

“They would say that,” she scoffed. She propped her chin up on a fist, met his eyes. “I’m not dangerous to you.”

“I know.” He paused, trying to decide if he should say the rest of what was in his head. He’d promised not to press for her story but that was before a couple of military grunts from a research facility he’d never heard of had come knocking on his door. “But you might be dangerous for them.”

“Yes.”

“Why are they looking for you?”

“Because I escaped their lab and they hate losing a test subject.” Her gaze was unflinching and her voice was steady. “Usually when they lose one, it’s because they went to far and killed them or sent them into a nervous breakdown or a coma. We were the first ones that escaped, I think.”

“These people are experimenting on humans? Government approved?” John asked, a crease forming in his brow.

She laughed, harsh and bitter. “The government knows, they just don’t care. Not officially sanctioned, I don’t think, but they and Torchwood don’t exactly consider us human so it doesn’t matter.”

John outright frowned. “Not human?”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “So, um, but there’s a certain percentage of people that seems to be growing that can do what most consider… magic. I’m one of those people.”

John blinked. “Alright.”

“You’re… okay with that? Just like that?” she asked, incredulous.

“Would you like me to freak out a bit more?”

“Not particularly, but I was expecting you to.”

“I heard some rumblings, rumors, about magic right before I left the army. It was something more than just the usual soldier superstition so, not surprised that there’s something to it. The world’s a strange enough place for it to be true,” John said.

“You were in the military?”

“Once upon a time,” he said, echoing her words from earlier. “I was a doctor.”

“Not anymore?”

He shook his head, mouth thinning into a hard, straight line. There were things he didn’t want to talk about either. “I’m a baker now.”

“Quite the shift in profession.”

“Needed a change.”

She nodded, understanding in her eyes. Before she could put voice to more words, she interrupted herself with a yawn.

John smiled. “Think you could use some sleep.”

“I think so too.” She uncurled herself, putting her feet on the floor. “Could I sleep here tonight?”

“Of course. Already said you could.”

“That was before you knew about the magic,” she wiggled her fingers at the word, “and before Torchwood came knocking.”

“Neither of those things changed my mind.”

She reached over and put a hand on his knee. “Thank you. I mean it. Not many people would be this kind.”

John put his hand over hers and squeezed gently before letting go. “Let’s get you set up for the night.”

“I promise I’ll tell you the rest of my story tomorrow, once my head’s not so fuzzy,” she said. She got to her feet and stretched, the crack of her spine audible to John.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I owe you that much for saving me.”

John didn’t argue. He didn’t think she owed him anything but he was keen to know what had happened to her before she showed up at his door.

He led her to his bedroom and got out an old tee shirt and a pair of flannel bottoms. “These will probably drown you but should do for the night. Sheets were washed a few days ago and I haven’t slept much lately so, should be serviceable enough.”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

“The bedroom door has a lock, loo is just here in the hall. You’re free to poke around and help yourself to any food you find. I’ll be down in the shop if you need me. If you decide to slip out, I’d appreciate you leaving a note so I know you left on your own,” he rattled off, uncharacteristically verbose. Her own reluctance to talk seemed to make him want to fill some of the silence.

“I’m not going to do a runner. At least not today,” she said with a smile.

John nodded. “Alright. I should get back to work then. Cakes are waiting and they aren’t patient things.”

He turned and walked towards the doorway, trying to figure out how he was going to focus on his baking when he knew she was up here sleeping in his bed, when he was busy wondering about her history with Torchwood. Already he could feel the urge to turn back around and continue their conversation, to give into whatever magnetic pull emanated from her.

He kept walking until her voice broke the quiet, just as he reached the door of his flat.

“Rose,” she said, and he turned around to look at her. She was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, the stack of clothes he’d given her clutched to her chest. “My name’s Rose Tyler.”

She flashed him a small smile before closing the bedroom door and engaging the lock.

 _Rose Tyler._ John mouthed the name, liking the way it rolled off his tongue.

There was no one to see his smile as he walked back to his kitchen so he didn’t bother trying to dim it one single iota.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of forced imprisonment/captivity and mentions of implied torture. Nothing explicit.

At ten forty-five, John slipped back into his kitchen to finish off the savory puff pastry parcels he had for the afternoon and get them baking. He wanted them in the cases before people came to the shop during their lunch breaks. He about tripped over his own feet when the door swung open and revealed the blonde, Rose, sitting at the end of his work table, hands wrapped around a mug of steaming tea.

“Figured you’d still be asleep,” he said as he got the puff pastry and his fillings out of the fridge.

He stole glances at his guest out of the corner of his eye. She’d filched one of his jumpers, a green one that was was worn thin at the elbows because he wore it so often, but had put the pair of trousers she’d worn yesterday back on. Her hair was damp and the ends of it were making little dark water marks on the jumper.

“Can’t sleep for long these days,” Rose said with a grimace. “But the bit I got was more than I’ve managed in ages.”

John nodded. He recognized the look in her eyes, had seen it on the faces of fellow soldiers, had seen it in the mirror most mornings when he bothered to look. Nightmares were a plague that had no cure, no end date, and showed no discrimination.

“You hungry? I can grab you something from the shop.”

“Maybe later,” she said with a small smile. “Busy enjoying my tea right now.”

They fell into silence as John rolled out the pastry dough and cut it into squares. He put a scoop of filling into the center of each square and then started forming them into parcels. The chicken, cheese, and veg ones went on one tray and were set aside awaiting an egg wash while he worked on finishing the spinach artichoke parcels and the pork parcels.

He could feel Rose watching him as he pinched pastry together and quickly whisked up a couple eggs. He brushed the pastries with a light egg wash and slid all three trays into the oven.

John peeked out into the shop to make sure he hadn’t missed someone coming in and then came back to the table where Rose was and sank down in the other chair at the table.

“Did you get any sleep?” she asked quietly.

“Nah. Don’t need much sleep, me.”

“Everyone needs some though.”

“I’ll catch a kip when I close up shop,” John said. Or rather, he’d try to do so once he’d closed up shop and made up all the doughs for the next day that needed to rise or chill overnight, but that was all a technicality. “How are you feeling today? Didn’t spot any news stories or wanted posters or anything.”

She snorted. “They could hardly put out wanted signs for a girl that’s supposedly dead. That might draw a bit of attention if anyone decided to start digging.”

“Dead?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, they told me when they brought me in that it was no use trying to leave since they had me pronounced dead and filed all the paperwork or whatever. So, I think according to the British government, I no longer exist.”

“Guess that makes it more difficult for them to launch a public campaign to find you,” he conceded.

“Silver lining, I guess.”

“Gotta be one somewhere.”

Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly before locking her eyes with his. “I think I’m ready to tell you what happened if you’re ready to listen. You deserve to know what you stepped in the middle of when you let me in last night.”

John glanced towards the oven and then back at Rose. “I’m ready but I’ve got a feeling your story is a long one and we’re likely to be interrupted by customers and the timer.”

Rose’s mouth quirked up in a little half smile. “If you don’t mind me using a little magic, none of that will be a problem.”

John shrugged. “Fine by me.”

He watched closely as Rose closed her eyes, obviously concentrating. When she opened them, they flared gold for a second before fading back into their normal shade of whiskey brown. John glanced around, trying to discern what had changed. The air felt different, stiller, and it had taken on a golden sheen, like it had been tinted with honey.

He looked at the clock over the door and saw that the second hand was frozen in place.

John’s eyes shot back to Rose. She had a pinched expression and her shoulders were tense.

_She’s expecting me to react badly_ , he realized. But he wasn’t scared or upset, he was amazed.

“You can stop time?” he breathed, letting his wonder show.

“Kinda? It’s more like stretching time or being between seconds, I think. Like nothing’s stopped, it’s just slowed down a lot. Torchwood hadn’t figured out how to measure it yet. I basically just have the two of us in a bubble where time is behaving… differently. I don’t know how it works, exactly.” She bit down on her bottom lip the moment she stopped speaking.

“Magic doesn’t necessarily need to conform to a scientific explanation, I wouldn’t think,” he mused.

“Try telling Torchwood that,” she muttered.

“Seems dead useful for reading a book when you’re supposed to be doing other things,” John said, grinning at her.

Rose laughed, tension draining out of her. “It is, yeah. Used to do that sometimes. Everyone always wondered how I finished the Harry Potter books so fast and didn’t look totally sleep-deprived.”

“Perfect use for magic if I ever heard one,” John declared.

“Torchwood was trying to figure out how to weaponize me,” she said, looking down into her empty mug. “Well, weaponize my power, but they couldn’t really separate me from it.”

“I take it they tried?”

Rose nodded.

“How did Torchwood even find you?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I didn’t exactly advertise my magic much, especially when people that I knew also had it started disappearing off the estate. I think that’s where they started grabbing people since the police don’t actually take much notice when people are reported missing off the estate.

“I guess someone mentioned me to them. They’ve got ways of making people talk even when they don’t want to.” She shrugged, eyes glued to the table as she curled her fingers around the edge of the too-long sleeve of his jumper. “They knocked on my door three weeks after my mum passed so I doubt anyone really went looking for me once they took me. I kinda ran away once before at sixteen so maybe people thought I’d do the same thing almost a decade later when things got tough.”

“How long were you at Torchwood before you escaped?” John asked, filing away the bits of information in his head.

“It’s impossible to keep track of time in the lab but I saw a calendar in your flat and if it’s right, then I’ve been there for around fourteen months.”

John’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s quite some time.”

“Yeah. I started planning an escape early on but the security’s good and I had to recruit some others with different magic than me. They didn’t exactly let us socialize much so that took some time.”

“But you made some friends?”

“Yeah, Bill and Amy. Bill’s magic lets her teleport and Amy can move objects.”

“So the combo of the three of you got out?”

“Yeah, Amy could manipulate some of the locks while I put us in a bubble that gave us the time we needed to make it work. Once we got out of the lab, BIll teleported us out. She wasn’t used to transporting that many people that far though and she was wiped out when we arrived a few streets over from your shop. Probably why they were able to catch up to her once we split up,” she said, frowning.

“They were able to keep Bill from teleporting out of the lab?” He asked, hoping to keep her from dwelling on the guilt she obviously felt for too long.

“They’ve run across quite a few people with that type of magic apparently so they had some kind of wards that prevented her from teleporting out. Don’t know how that worked either. Science was never my strong subject,” she said with a grimace.

John ducked his head to try and catch her eye, giving her a wry smile. “Failed most of my exams, me. The first go-round, at least.”

“But you’re a doctor!” she protested.

“Figured out the school thing after dropping out the first time. Joined the military and they saw I’d taken all the requirements to be in med school so they got me to enroll again. Had a shortage of doctors wanting to be shipped off to war zones, apparently.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Rose commented dryly.

“They couldn’t either. Passed all my exams second time through, though. Sometimes it’s just a timing thing.”

“Always wanted to go back and get my A-levels but I never found the time, really.”

John shrugged. “School isn’t everything. Plus, you have plenty of time now. Rest of your life!”

She slumped in her chair. “Only if Torchwood stops looking for me and I doubt that’ll ever happen.”

John reached out and took one of her hands in his, trying to give her something in the here and now to focus on, trying to remind her that right now she was safe. “Tell me about them? What are they trying to do?”

“Don’t know what they do outside of our lab but I assume they have other interests besides magic and the weaponization of it,” Rose said. “But with us, they are trying to figure out how the magic works, why some people have it and some people don’t. From what they’ve said, the percentage of people with magic seems to be on the rise for some reason so they’re ramping up their experiments.”

She shuddered, eyes looking off past his shoulder without seeing a thing. John squeezed her hand and made circles with his thumb against her skin. Rose took a shaky breath and looked back at him. She turned her hand over and laced her fingers with his.

John looked down at their intertwined hands on the table - his work-rough and hers pale from captivity - and tried to will his heart back into a more normal, sedate pace. It felt right, having her hand in his, but the sparks racing up his arm had no place in this conversation.

“You don’t have to talk about what happened there, Rose,” he said softly.

She shook her head and tightened her grip on him. “They made us demonstrate our magic over and over again as they tried to define it and control it. Usually they made sure we were healthy, at least in the beginning. At least they did for me, since I had magic they hadn’t seen before. But after awhile…” she broke off with a shaky breath. “After awhile they liked to try to see how we reacted under duress. So sometimes there was no food or they sent someone to attack us to see how we could protect ourselves with whatever magic we had.”

“Is that how they lost people?” John asked, remembering something she’d said before.

“Some. Others they lost when they decided to move on to surgical experiments.”

John cursed under his breath, appalled that such an organization was being allowed to torture people.

“Mostly, they’re after a way to steal magic and give it to people they can control or to Torchwood soldiers,” she said. “Every time they think they’ve figured out how to remove it, it kills someone.”

“It’s like trying to steal someone’s soul,” John said.

Rose nodded. “They’re going to keep trying until they figure it out or get shut down, though.”

John’s brain was already cooking up ideas. He’d been out of the game for a couple years but there were still some people in positions of power that owed him favors. Maybe if he got the right information in the right ears, someone could shut down Torchwood for good.

They wouldn’t go away without a fight, though. Not with what Rose was telling him and the feeling he’d gotten from the visitors last night. There was no telling what they would do to their captives if they were told to shut everything down.

He shuddered and squeezed her hand again. His gaze was steady when he looked back at her. “I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure they get shut down and your friends get out safe.”

A wrinkle appeared between Rose’s eyebrows. “How? I mean, I know you used to be military but you own a bakery now. You got out of that kind of life.”

John felt a familiar sense of purpose settle into his bones. He loved running his bakery, loved spreading joy to the neighborhood with a bit of yeast and flour and sugar, but sometimes his feet still itched to run straight into the teeth of trouble.

He shrugged. “Never been able to keep my nose out of where it doesn’t belong. Besides, are you really able to tell me that you were just going to disappear and leave your friends trapped inside Torchwood?”

Rose’s lips pressed together into a straight line and she shook her head.

“A rescue attempt is better with two, yeah?”

A smile bloomed on Rose’s face. “Yeah. Better with two.”

They grinned at each other and the air around them brightened a shade until it felt like they were encased in summer sunlight. Rose closed her eyes and the gold dissipated, leaving just the normal kitchen lighting. The ticking of the clock and small noises of the oven’s heating elements seemed abnormally loud after being separated from them for a while.

“That’s amazing,” John said as he craned his neck to peek in the oven. The pastries looked exactly as it had when Rose had engaged her magic.

“Thanks,” she answered back. “So, tell me what’s in the oven, it’s already starting to smell heavenly and now I’m famished.”

Neither of them let go of the other’s hand as they talked until John heard a customer enter the shop ten minutes later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for taking so long to get this chapter out! hopefully there won't be another three month wait before the next one!

The lunch crowd was thick and kept John hopping. Rose stayed in the kitchen with the back door locked so that the only way in was through the shop and, consequently, through John. 

He took her at her word that things she touched burned so he didn’t co-opt her as his assistant but she was hardly idle. She chopped nuts while he was working on something else and measured out dry ingredients for him to use later. John was also positive that his kitchen had never been cleaner in the middle of the day.

“You know you don’t actually have to wash dishes,” he commented when he walked through the door and found her scrubbing one of the stand mixer bowls in the sink.

“I would’ve walked out by now if I thought you were going to force me to be a dishwasher,” she shot back, smiling at him over her shoulder. “But figured I could make myself useful.”

“You’ve been making tea all afternoon, that’s more than useful,” he said, flopping down into one of the wooden chairs. “Closed up for the day.”

Rose turned to look at the clock. “It’s only four.”

John shrugged. “Everyone around here knows my hours are more like suggestions.”

“Perks of running your own business?”

“One of them. I think people have just accepted that I’m the neighborhood eccentric.”

“Works out well for you then.”

He made a noise of assent as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to do prep for tomorrow later this evening. I want to get in touch with an old friend of mine to see if she knows anything relevant to our mutual interests.”

Rose paused in drying one of clean dishes as she studied his face. “You know, you don’t talk much like a doctor or a soldier.”

John flashed a lopsided smile. “People never expect the accent. I think they forget that there are actually people who live up north instead of in London.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about your accent, you git. I just meant you don’t condescend to me or try and order me about.”

“Wasn’t great with the whole listening to orders thing, myself,” he admitted.

“Me neither.”

John rather thought that time slowed for a moment as they smiled at each other across the kitchen but it was a different kind of magic than what Rose had demonstrated earlier.

He looked away first, hoping that the tops of his ears weren’t turning red. “I’m going to call my friend. If you want the flat to yourself for a bit to relax, you’re welcome to head back that way.”

Rose bit down on her bottom lip, considering. “Would you walk me up there? Just to make sure that…”

She trailed off before finishing her sentence but John knew she was worried that Torchwood might’ve come back to check up on him and compromised the flat.

“Course,” he said, standing. “I’ll finish the dishes up later, too.”

“You sure? I don’t mind finishing up.”

“There’s barely anything left. I like having something to do with my hands while I’m on the phone.”

“Well, I’m not going to fight you over it. I could probably do with a quick kip.” She quickly dried her hands off, leaving the rest of the dishes in the sink. “Ready when you are.”

John went out the door first and checked the back hallway to make sure it was clear before motioning to Rose that it was okay to follow. He startled when she slipped her hand into his but he instinctively curled his fingers around hers.

Rose stayed close to his side as they went up the stairs. She pulled the key he’d given her and unlocked the door before sticking it back in her pocket. John led the way into the flat. He squeezed her hand before dropping it to lock the door. He swept the flat with efficient motions, making  sure nothing had been disturbed. He noted a couple of signs of Rose having been here but no indication of intruders.

“All clear,” he said. “Lock the door after me. I should be back up here in an hour or so and will let you know what I’ve found out.”

Rose nodded, failing to fight back a yawn.

“Get some sleep, Rose. I’ll be back when I’m done downstairs. Don’t forget to hook the chain on the door.”

She rolled her eyes as she gave him a small smile. “I won’t forget. Go take care of what you need to do. I will lock everything up tight.”

“Course,” he agreed, smiling back. “I’ll just get out of your hair, then. Sleep well.”

He slipped back out the door before she said anything else and lingered in the hallway until he heard her engage all the locks and slip the chain in place. 

John went back to the kitchen and locked the back door. He sat down at the worktable and pulled his mobile out of his pocket. He stared at it for a moment before navigating to the number he wanted, listed under a fake beekeeping company name. This was going to be an interesting conversation and he just hoped that his contact would be able to help.

He pressed the call button and listened to it ring for a moment.

“You know, people start to worry when you don’t contact them for a year, Spaceman,” Donna Noble said upon answering the phone, irritation foremost in her tone.

“How did you even know it was me?” John demanded. “I didn’t have this number last time I called.”

He could almost hear her roll her eyes. “I know everything.”

Donna Noble was the national treasure that no one knew existed. She was a high level analyst that coordinated information and agents across multiple British intelligence services and kept everything running smoothly. No one really knew what her position was or how she’d gotten it but she was terrifyingly competent and everyone was glad she was working with them instead of against them.

She was also one of the few people John truly considered a friend.

“What’s got you calling after so long? I don’t suppose you’ve remembered to send me pastries like you said you were going to last time and are calling to tell me when they’ll be here?”

He winced. “I forgot about that.”

“I know. You’re lucky that your bakery is on the opposite side of town or I’d be in there all the time just to get some of those croissants and macaroons you make.”

“You could always come visit,” he pointed out. “You’re always welcome.”

Donna snorted. “I would actually have to have free time to do that.”

“True.”

“So, you doing okay? I try to keep tabs on you but things have been busy lately and I highly doubt this is a social call.”

“I need a favor,” John admitted. His fingertips pressed hard against the table top as his tension rose almost to a breaking point.

“I owe you like three,” Donna said. “And you know there are probably people who would kill to have me owing me favors which is why I don’t owe them any.”

“Donna…”

“Right. Favor. What’s going on? And you never told me if you were okay.”

“I’m fine, but I’m trying to help someone who is in a spot of trouble and I need your help.”

Donna laughed. “I told you you’d get dragged back in somehow. I’ve never met someone who’s so intent on helping people.”

“It’s just this one thing, Donna. I’m not really getting back in the game.”

“I know. I damn well miss having you here to boss around but I’m glad you got out. What can I do to help?”

“I need some information. I’m going to email you with the information so you have it and then I thought, if you have time, we could meet at that café where we talked about the job offer you had for me in Prague to go over what you found.”

Donna sucked in a breath and he knew she picked up on the implication that his line might not be secure. “I remember the place. They have good paninis. I should be able to sneak away from my desk for a bit. Send me what you need and I’ll let you know when we can meet.”

“Thank you Donna. You’re the best,” he said sincerely, tension starting to drain from his frame. 

“I know. Bring me something sweet if you really want to thank me, though.”

John laughed. “I’ll rustle something up for you.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you later then,” she said. “Take care.”

It was an order that he actually intended to follow.

“Yes ma’am. See you later.”

He rang off and immediately opened his email on his phone. He had so many layers of encryption built into it that he was more comfortable sending information that way than risking verbal communication that was more easily intercepted.

He gave a brief rundown of what Rose had told him of Torchwood without revealing anything about her specifically and requested any information she could dig up on the organization and its headquarters.

Once that was sent, he rolled up his sleeves and set to finishing the dishes, all the while planning the doughs he needed to get working sometime that evening and worrying about Rose upstairs on her own where only his security was protecting her.

He knew she was perfectly capable of defending herself if it came down to it but the urge to protect her had settled in bone-deep and there wasn’t any use denying that it was there.

John set the last dish in the drying rack, set the dishwasher to run and then turned out the lights and locked the back door as he left. He took the stairs two at a time and then knocked on the door of his flat.

It took a couple minutes and a few more knocks before he heard the chain sliding back. Within seconds, the door opened and Rose’s hand closed around his wrist and tugged him inside. She quickly locked the door back up and then turned to look at him.

She was a sight with her hair all mussed and eyes still half-glazed with sleep. She still wore his jumper and it was wrinkled and hanging down past her fingertips. He couldn’t look away.

“Tea. Then I’m going to ask how your phone call went,” she said, voice husky.

“Go sit,” John said with a smile. “I can handle some tea.”

Rose nodded and wandered over to the couch without protest. John put the kettle on and got down two mugs. He plopped tea bags in them and reached for the sugar, setting it by the mugs so it was ready for use.

“Milk and sugar for you, right?”

Rose made a noise that he was fairly sure was a yes. She apparently did not really wake up until she was caffeinated.

When the tea was ready, he took the mugs to the living room and handed one to Rose as he settled on the other side of the sofa. They sat silently sipping their tea until Rose was about halfway done with her cuppa. She locked eyes with him, looking much more alert and smiled.

“Sorry about that. I’m a bear when I first wake up.”

He grinned. “That’s what caffeine is for.”

Rose agreed wholeheartedly and took another big gulp of her tea. “So, what did you learn?”

“Nothing yet. I got in touch with my friend and asked her to look up information on Torchwood and their headquarters. When she’s finished researching, she’ll let me know and I’m going to go meet up with her so she can tell me what she knows,” he explained.

“And your friend will be able to find what you need, yeah?” Rose bit down on the side of her thumb, nervous now that they were discussing Torchwood again.

“Donna can find out anything. It’s what she does and she’s brilliant at it.”

Rose nodded and looked away, mouth suddenly pulled into a tight line.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“S’nothing. I just… you can trust her right? This Donna?”

“Absolutely. I trust her with my life, have done many times. She’s a good friend and I’m pretty sure this country would be in shambles if it wasn’t for her work,” John said, hoping that this information would reassure her. “You can trust her.”

“Pretty much the only person I trust right now is you,” she said, looking back up at him. “Just… be careful when you go to meet her, okay?”

“I will be,” he promised. “Hopefully you’ll get to meet her at some point. I think the two of you would get on like a house on fire.”

“You been friends with her a long time?”

“We used to work together back when I was in the service. She was one of my bosses and we became friends.” He shrugged and shot her a smile that made him look like a naughty school boy. “Neither of us had any patience for all the bureaucratic bullshit so we bonded over that.”

Rose laughed. “Sounds like the two of you were trouble.”

“We were,” he admitted.

“Were you just friends or…”

“Yes! Definitely just friends. Donna is one of my best mates and it’s always been fully platonic between us.” He practically tripped over his words as he tried to get them out quickly. It wasn’t the first time someone had thought he and Donna were a couple but he was fairly sure Donna almost ripped throat out of the last guy who had last asked. That had stopped the rumors pretty effectively and then John had left so that had killed any further whispers.

It looked like Rose was trying to fight back her smile but it stole over her face anyways. “That was a very emphatic answer.”

John just rolled his eyes. He was saved from answering further by his phone beeping. He pulled it out and quickly read the email from Donna.

“Donna wants to meet tonight in a couple of hours,” he said, still looking at his mobile.

“Isn’t that a bit fast?” Rose asked.

“Yeah. She said there was already a file on Torchwood in the system so she’s not having to compile everything from scratch.”

“Am I going to be here on my own for a bit, then?”

John nodded and then, thinking that she should have a way of contacting him if things went pear-shaped while he was out, stood and went over to his desk. He rummaged in one of the drawers for a moment before straightening with a triumphant grin.

“Extra mobile,” he explained when he returned to the couch. “Give me just a mo’ to get it up and running and I’ll program my number in it so that you can ring if something happens here.”

“You just happen to have an extra mobile lying around?” She asked, incredulous.

“Yeah. I like to be prepared.”

“I get the feeling that you were more than just a soldier,” Rose said, raising an eyebrow.

“Might’ve been,” he muttered, not looking up.

He finished activating the phone, making sure it was functional and had credit enough to work, and then handed it over. “If you could send a text to the number that’s in there that would be ideal. That way I have the number so I can contact you as well.”

Rose did that and he saved the number into his phone. “Thanks for this,” she said quietly. “I’ll feel better about being here on my own with a way to get in touch.”

“I’ll feel better about leaving you here, too,” he said. “Do you want me to grab dinner while I’m out? I’m meeting Donna at a café and can grab something to go.”

“That would be great.”

They chatted a bit longer before John decided he should get going so he wouldn’t be late to his meeting with Donna. He took their mugs back to the kitchen and set them in the sink.

Rose followed him and as soon as he turned back around she wrapped him in a hug. He froze for half a second before wrapping his arms around her and returning the hug.

“Please be careful, yeah?” Rose asked, face buried in his jumper.

“I will be,” he said, smoothing his hand up and down her back. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

She pulled back without completely letting go of him. “I doubt that but let me know if you are going to take longer than a few hours. I’m going to worry.”

“I’ll let you know if I’m delayed,” he promised.

“Okay.” Rose stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself now. “Be safe, John.”

“I will,” he promised again. He hesitated for a moment and then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

He didn’t look back as he grabbed his leather jacket and walked out the door but he waited once more until he heard her secure the locks. It wasn’t until the last one was engaged that he headed down the stairs to put together a box of treats for Donna.

John packed a variety of sweets  in one of the bakery’s signature blue boxes and then reached under his work table for the two throwing knives he kept secured there. Hopefully their meeting would be uneventful but he knew better than to go unprepared.


	4. Chapter 4

John spotted Donna the moment he walked into the café, her red hair catching the light in the small space.

“About time you got here,” she said as he took his seat and set the bakery box in the seat next to him.

“Route took longer to walk than I expected,” he answered with a shrug. “It’s good to see you, Donna. You’re looking well.”

She scoffed. “I’m looking overworked, which I am.”

“Sorry for adding to it.”

Donna opened her mouth to chide him but was cut off by the waitress approaching their table to take their drink orders. They quickly ordered coffees and waited for her to get far enough away from the table to resume their conversation.

“I’m never to busy to help a friend,” Donna said, tone brooking no argument. “And you’ve landed neck-deep in trouble and need all the help you can get.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Are you really? What do you know about Torchwood?”

“Mostly what I put in that email. The human testing on people with abilities bit of their operation. From what I heard, they’re loosely associated with the government but not an official government agency.”

“That’s right. I would have already greenlit an op to get rid of them if they weren’t unofficially sanctioned,” she said, making a face. “Always seemed skeezy to me. I didn’t actually know about the human testing until you asked about it, but the file on Torchwood has information about on that part of their operation.”

They paused as the waitress set their coffees on the table and took their dinner orders.

Donna gave him an assessing look once the girl was out of earshot again. “Word is that Torchwood is on high alert and that they were in your neighborhood looking for someone last night. Know anything about that?”

“Might’ve traded words with them,” John answered. “They knocked on the door of my shop.”

Donna sighed. “I can help you better if I have all the information. You know this.”

“It’s not my call to make,” he said. “You know I trust you with my life.”

“But not with whoever you’re protecting.”

“I do, but they don’t know you,” John explained. “Have good reason to be mistrustful, if you ask me.”

“If Torchwood had them, I can understand that.”

“What else is Torchwood into? I didn’t want to do my own research in case they tried to monitor my computer.”

Donna snorted. “I could barely monitor your computer when I was supposed to. I doubt Torchwood is worried about you enough to break through your excessive layers of encryption.”

“Not excessive if it works.”

She waved away the familiar argument. “The most public aspect of Torchwood is their weapons development program. They work on specialized weapons for the military and the intelligence service.”

“Which is why they can run their other even less savory programs without being touched,” John growled.

“Pretty much. Now, I looked into the human testing that you asked about. It seems they’re scooping up people with untested abilities and claiming that they are test subjects, not humans.”

“Lines up with what I’ve been told.”

“It seems like the government knows but they’re not doing anything about it because no one has kicked up a fuss about it and they think they’ll get some sort of military advantage out of the whole mess.”

“This kind of thing is why I got out of the game,” John said.

“I would’ve been right behind you if I thought I could leave without everything turning even more hellish,” Donna replied. “As it is, I can try to undermine the really terrible things from inside.”

The waitress came back with their sandwiches and they both tucked in.

“Where is the facility where they do the human testing?” John asked after swallowing a bite.

“You did hear me say that they’re on high alert, right?”

He nodded.

Donna rolled her eyes. “You probably just think the added complication is fun,” she muttered.

“I’d wait for their security to calm back down but I’m not leaving those people in there to be tortured for any longer than necessary.” He had a feeling that Rose’s friends who had been recaptured wouldn’t be kept around for much longer. They needed to get in there before it was too late.

She slid a USB drive across the table. “This is the whole file on Torchwood. I figured you would want to have everything. Their location and basic security measures are in there. If you can tell me when you are planning on hitting them, I can try to draw some of the extra bodies to one of their other facilities. I’m good at manufacturing emergencies.”

He pocketed the USB.

“I want to go tomorrow night but I have to talk to my partner,” he said. He thought Rose would be ready to go after her friends as soon as he came back with the information.

“Please tell me you’re not going to take them on with just yourself and whoever you’re harboring that these people are looking for.”

“I won’t tell you, then.”

“You’re going to give me an aneurysm one of these days, Spaceman,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I’ll see what I can do to get you some cover.”

John leaned forward. “I’m taking them down, Donna. This isn’t just a rescue mission. I can’t let them keep doing this to people.”

“And just how do you plan on doing that? I can barely touch them and I’m  _ me _ .”

“I don’t have to work within the system anymore. I’m going to get those people out and then I’m going to get their story out. I want Torchwood destroyed.”

Donna pressed her lips together. “If I can scrape together more info on other Torchwood scandals that have been swept under the rug, that could help discredit them.”

“You said they’re still operating because they’re still in the shadows,” he said. “Let’s drag them into the light. Then the public can eat them alive and you can get them shut down from the inside.”

A half-smile formed on Donna’s lips. “I have missed the way you put a plan together when you bother with one. I’ll start leaving hints for reporters to find tonight. That way they’re already on the scent when you start dropping bombs.”

“Fantastic.”

Donna pulled out her wallet and left a couple twenty pound notes on the table. “Keep me updated when you can,” she told him. “And next time don’t wait until there’s an emergency to call me.”

He smiled at her. “I won’t. When this is done, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Her smile softened as she read the traces of affection on John’s face and in his voice. Whoever he’d rescued this time was already important to him. “I look forward to it. Now, give me the pastries I know you brought.”

John chuckled and handed over the blue box. “Don’t let them get stale.”

“They may not make it through the night,” she said. “Definitely won’t make it to stale.”

“Good.”

“See ya later, then,” Donna said, standing up. She squeezed John’s shoulder on her way past him. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

He stayed long enough to order some food for Rose and then left with the to-go bag hanging from his forearm.

John took a different route back to his flat, doubling back frequently to make sure he wasn’t being followed. His knife was ready to slip into his hand but it was just his heightened paranoia that made his palm itch for its familiar weight. There were no signs he was being followed.

He slipped inside the bakery and secured his knives to the underside of the table once more before locking up. He took the steps two at a time and knocked on the door to his flat.

“It’s me,” he called out. “I’m back and I have food.”

He heard Rose on the other side of the door followed by the click of disengaging locks and then the slide of the chain.

“You weren’t gone that long,” she said as she opened the door.

He stepped inside and waited for her to re-engage the locks before handing her the bag of food. “Wasn’t sure what you would want so I got a couple of things.”

“Thanks, John. I’m starving again.”

“It wasn’t a full debrief which would’ve taken longer. Donna gave me the information to look over myself,” he explained, patting the pocket with the USB drive. “She’s going to help us as much as she can from inside the government system. Can’t do much for the rescue mission but she can help us burn Torchwood to the ground.”

Rose grinned from where she’d taken a seat on the sofa. “Brilliant. I like the sound of that.”

John grabbed his laptop and took it to the couch. He plugged in the USB and started working his way through the security Donna had put on it. “If you’re up for it, I think we should hit them tomorrow night,” he said as he worked.

Rose nodded, her mouth full of food. “I’m ready.”

She took another bite and then reached for a piece of paper on the coffee table. “I drew a map of the containment unit where I was kept. I don’t know where in the building it is or even where the building is, but I saw the majority of the unit and know the security in there.”

“Fantastic,” he said, taking the paper and studying it. He noted her detailing of security measures against intruders and the prisoners. “Do you think they have security against magic in the whole building or just the containment unit?”

“I think it’s just the containment unit, but I don’t know that for sure. Is the map helpful?”

“Very. I should have the building location and maybe basic blueprints somewhere in this file but firsthand knowledge is always better. Plus, this is remarkably detailed.”

“Spent fourteen months memorizing it,” she said with a quirk of her lips. She turned back to her food, leaving John to shift focus back to his laptop.

He sifted through the information until he found the file on the facility that housed the magic testing program. He pulled up the blueprints and the security schematics and started committing them to memory.

John startled when Rose rested her chin on his shoulder.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump. Just wanted to see what you were so intent on,” she said.

“Trying to memorize the layout and where the security is likely to be,” he explained. “Want to know all the exits so we can make a fast exit if we need to.”

“Is there only the one containment unit?”

“Looks like it. And look,” he pointed to a large blank space on the schematics, “I think this is where the containment unit is located. They didn’t give details on it, so your map will be instrumental.”

They worked together to plot a route into the building and to the containment unit, coming up with potential solutions to security measures using a combination of John’s military knowledge and Rose’s magic. 

Two hours later, they had a tentative plan in place and Rose was yawning again. John was feeling rather knackered as well, not having managed to get any sleep since Rose showed up at his door.

She rested her head on his shoulder from where she was sat next to him on the sofa. “I’m worried about Bill and Amy,” she said, words falling heavy in the quiet.

“We’ll get them out,” he promised. “They’ll be okay, Rose.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t. But you don’t know that they won’t be, either.”

She took a deep breath. “I keep imagining what they’re doing to them as punishment for escaping.”

John shifted to put his arm around her shoulders. “We’re going to get to them as soon as we can,” he said. “Worrying is inevitable but it also doesn’t do them any good.”

“I know. Just can’t help it.”

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t worried about them.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Why don’t you get some sleep so you’re ready for tomorrow. Going to be a long day.”

“Are you going to sleep too? I can take the couch,” Rose said. She turned her head into his shoulder, nuzzling closer as she edged closer to exhaustion.

“I’ll take the couch. I’ve slept here plenty,” he said.

“Actually sleep this time. You need rest before tomorrow, too.”

“I will, Rose. I think the shop will only be open for a couple of hours tomorrow. Didn’t get back down there to get doughs started for tomorrow.”

“Sleep’s more important,” she said.

John chuckled, soft and low. “Tonight, I agree with you.”

“Good. Goodnight, then, John.” She pushed to her feet and squeezed his shoulder before walking towards the bedroom.

“Goodnight, Rose.”

As soon as the bedroom door closed, John set aside his laptop with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes, trying to push down the urge to go down and make some dough just to work out his stress. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t get any sleep and he desperately needed some sleep before tomorrow’s mission.

Yawning, he stood and collected some blankets from the closet. He turned off the lights and settled onto the sofa, ready to finally steal a bit of rest.

For the next couple of hours, his dreams were haunted by the thought of what Torchwood was doing to their prisoners.

Rose was in all of them.

By four AM he was down in his bakery working some dough by hand as he tried to chase away the images his brain had conjured.


End file.
